


Between Equals

by DdraigCoch



Category: Gundam Wing/AC
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-09
Updated: 2010-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-11 15:11:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/113759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DdraigCoch/pseuds/DdraigCoch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title: What They Don't Know<br/>Fandom: Gundam Wing<br/>Theme: #9 Footprints<br/>Pairing: Zechs Marquise/Treize Kushrenada<br/>Rating: PG-13<br/>Disclaimer: I do not own the Gundam Wing universe or characters, and I mean no harm nor do I make any money from this. Please don't sue.<br/>Author's Note: This took on a life of it's own, and kinda went a bit long...<br/>Summery: Following the fall of Sanc, Treize and OZ go in search of the erstwhile Prince.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Footprints

**Author's Note:**

> Title: What They Don't Know  
> Fandom: Gundam Wing  
> Theme: #9 Footprints  
> Pairing: Zechs Marquise/Treize Kushrenada  
> Rating: PG-13  
> Disclaimer: I do not own the Gundam Wing universe or characters, and I mean no harm nor do I make any money from this. Please don't sue.  
> Author's Note: This took on a life of it's own, and kinda went a bit long...  
> Summery: Following the fall of Sanc, Treize and OZ go in search of the erstwhile Prince.

Title: What They Don't Know  
Fandom: Gundam Wing  
Theme: #9 Footprints  
Pairing: Zechs Marquise/Treize Kushrenada  
Rating: PG-13  
Disclaimer: I do not own the Gundam Wing universe or characters, and I mean no harm nor do I make any money from this. Please don't sue.  
Author's Note: This took on a life of it's own, and kinda went a bit long...  
Summery: Following the fall of Sanc, Treize and OZ go in search of the erstwhile Prince.

Treize didn't like it here anymore. There was nowhere peaceful left in the Sanc Palace, and wherever he wandered there was rubble. Sometimes the soldier escorting the young noble to his father forgot that Treize was only a boy of 10 and would move on ahead, leaving the boy to take in the horror at his leisure. Sometimes all that would show what had happened would be a splatter of scarlet against the expensive walls and in others – in others the bodies had been piled in the corridors with only a sheet to hide them from the eyes of the living if soldiers weren't checking their faces. At one point the guiding soldier looked over his shoulder at the nauseous boy and gave him a sympathetic smile.

"Sorry. You forget there are civilians about the place."

"Wha- what are they doing that for?"

"They want to account for everyone. Rumour is that some of the Royal Family is unaccounted for."

He frowned deeply, ignoring the indulgent grin of the soldier. He'd liked the Queen, a lovely lady who'd given him his first rose plant last year for his birthday. The thought that she could be one of these lifeless corpses was one that horrified him deeply. And what about the King, or the Princess, or Mirialldo? Treize hadn't thought about that earlier when he'd watched the sack with his mother on the TV. Somehow he'd assumed that all the friendly people in the palace were hiding, safe somewhere. He'd never imagined such a scene as this ever in his young life.

"Treize!" Cornel Kushrenada called, snapping his son out of his increasingly morbid thoughts. "You made it. Thank you Captain."

The young soldier bowed and retreated, soon lost in the hubbub of activity that the Peacecraft portrait gallery had become. Orders were given, and there seemed to be a constant stream of uniformed people in and out of the double doors. If this were anywhere else, Treize would have been excited at being included.

"Treize," His father pulled him over to a relatively quiet corner where a woman in a yellow dress that did nothing for her figure peered nosily down at them with the Peacecraft blue eyes from a huge canvas above. "Are you ok? Course you're not."

"Father, why did you call me here? Mother went purple when you sent for me, it's all over the TV…"

Treize's father sighed softly.

"We can't find the Prince. We think he's hiding somewhere on the grounds but… Listen to me Treize, it's imperative that 'we' find him. Do you understand me?"

Of course Treize understood him. The new organisation known as OZ had been his obsession ever since he'd been told about it. He knew which of the Alliance's leading officers were members of OZ, and which would be violently opposed to it. He knew that they only let the best join, and he knew that his father was somewhere in the upper echelons of that society. That thought made him proud whenever he cared to linger on it and he'd think to himself 'One day I'll be an OZ soldier too.'

So, Treize nodded his red head in understanding. His father smiled a little in relief.

"You know where he might be, so I want you to look for him. I'll be putting two men with you to help. Do you accept?"

Treize smiled once more and nodded again.

"Yes Sir."

A week passed, and still they hadn't found the Prince. Sometimes, in the very early hours of the morning he thought that he could hear bare feet running past the fencing room where the soldiers that were left bedded down. Somehow Treize knew he wasn't imagining things and would lie there painting foolishly romantic pictures in his mind of the tragic young prince stumbling through the ruined corridors of his old home, desperately searching for a friendly face in the rubble that had so recently cradled those horrific corpses…

On the eighth afternoon after the attack, when they had been outside burying the Royal Family on the grounds, a soldier was found dead in the corridor with half his face blown off.

In the commotion of the discovery, the adults failed to notice half a footprint on the edge of the spreading blood, gleaming wetly against the stone floor. Treize saw it though, and took off in the direction it went. No one took any notice, assuming that the sight of a man with his brains decorating the hall had sent him running. This was no place for a child to be anyway.

The noise of the adults receeded behind him as he chased after the fading footprint until both the noise and the prints were gone and disappointment stung his chest. He'd been so close to finding him, so very close. There was no doubt in the boy's mind that it had been Mirialldo there; that perhaps he'd even done the shooting. A hard thing to imagine of the six year old, but who else could it have been?

"Miri!" He called out, hoping that the boy was still close and that their friendship still held. Behind him he heard the click he'd come to know as a gun's safety.

"Don't shout, Treize. No shouting or running in the corridors." Said a very familiar voice.

Very slowly he turned on the spot, his booted feet making soft clapping sounds in the otherwise silent hallway. The boy facing him looked very different from the tragically romantic figure Treize had imagined. Yes, his once fine clothes were virtually rags and his blonde curls were a knotted, matted mess darkened with blood and soot. But not once in his imagination had he looked at his friend with such anger and betrayal. And he'd absolutely never had a gun trained clumsily on Treize's chest.

"What are you doing?" Treize whispered, studying the gun and the way it dwarfed Mirialldo's hands.

"Getting them back." The Prince told him, with the bottomless self-centred hurt of a child. "For Mama and Dad."

"Are you going to hurt me too? I thought we were friends Mirialldo?"

"I didn't hurt that man. He did it himself." Mirialdo said defensively, his hands starting to tremble. "He left me a note saying sorry for making my parents go away."

Treize looked at Mirialldo, a sudden wave of pity coming over him. He stepped forward slowly, knowing that if he frightened him, the younger boy might hurt him.

"Sorry, Miri. I've been trying to find you. My father wants to hide you somewhere safe."

"No. You want to make me go away too. I heard them."

"Not my father. He wants to hide you so you can get them. So we can both get them."

Mirialldo looked up at him with the big blue eyes that his nannies had cooed over. He wanted to believe him, he didn't like this new world where there was no one to go to when he had bad dreams, and he had to find his own food.

"Cross your heart?" He asked in a small voice, starting to lower the gun.

"And hope to die, stick a needle in my eye." Treize said earnestly, doing the actions hastily. Silence for a moment, both boys utterly still. Caught in a bizarre tableau of trust before the smaller boy lowered the gun.

Treize immediately moved forward, wrapping his arms around the boy's slender shoulders in a fiercely protective hug, which shocked it's recipient enough that the gun was dropped to the floor. Mirialdo returned the hug very briefly before snaking out of his grip.

"Umm…" The prince said, awkwardly wrapping his arms around himself. "Shouldn't we go see your Dad?"

"Yeah…" Biting his lip briefly Treize shifted from one foot to another before heading down the corridor. "This way, before things calm down…"

Mirialldo fell into step beside Treize, a silent companion on the road to where they had to go.

FIN


	2. The Curtain Falls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Company  
> Fandom: Gundam Wing  
> Theme: #25 The Curtain Falls  
> Pairing: Zechs Marquise/Treize Kushrenada  
> Rating: PG  
> Disclaimer: I do not own the Gundam Wing universe or characters, and I mean no harm nor do I make any money from this. Please don't sue.  
> Summery: A disagreement over The Bard.

Title: Company  
Fandom: Gundam Wing  
Theme: #25 The Curtain Falls  
Pairing: Zechs Marquise/Treize Kushrenada  
Rating: PG  
Disclaimer: I do not own the Gundam Wing universe or characters, and I mean no harm nor do I make any money from this. Please don't sue.  
Summery: A disagreement over The Bard.

Applause broke out through the theatre as the red velvet curtain fell on the bowed figure of Puck. Below in the stalls someone had begun a standing ovation and still someone else began yelling and whistling. The curtain came back up, and all the actors in their fantastic costumes filed on stage to take their bows, hand in hand.  
In their private box, Treize frowned in distaste at the audience's behaviour.

"Really, Zechs. I don't know why you make me watch these." He muttered, shrinking back behind the red velvet hangings as the house lights slowly came back on. The cast still hadn't retreated behind their own velvet curtains.

"Revenge." He answered simply, standing sedately to add his own applause to the din. Annoyed, Treize tugged sharply on the back of his friend's uniform coat in the hope it would take the blonde by surprise and cause him to stumble back into his seat. No such luck though. He remained as erect and impassive as ever.

Several of the lesser cast members – fairies and towns people – had been reduced to tears as their enthusiastic audience applauded them for the third time, and fell to hugging one another emotionally. Zechs smiled slightly and returned to his seat, only glancing at his friend as he returned to the shadows.

"Everyone should experience Shakespeare. Even you, Opera Don."

"Experience is all well and good." Treize replied softly as the rest of the audience filed out reluctantly. "But a dead horse should be left alone. Don't look at me like that," He added defensively as Zechs levelled a blank look on him. He was all too familiar with all sorts of the blonde's looks. "You will never persuade me that that drivel is equal to my Opera. Give up."

"Not until you stop forcing me to attend said Operas." Zechs replied promptly, watching the last of their fellow voyeurs leaving.

Treize tried to look annoyed with him, but frankly he was enjoying himself far too much to succeed. Partly to hide this failure, he stood and headed for the door. Behind him he heard the slight thud that told him Zechs followed, but didn't look back. He didn't need to, as his friend was soon back at his side, his silent companion.  
The General wondered how he seemed to the few people still wandering the theatre. Did the blonde seem to be some sort of guard dog; a mastiff tethered willingly to a lead as frail as spun sugar? He rather hoped so.

"I was under the impression that you enjoyed our evenings at the opera?" He asked as they stepped out onto the quiet sidewalk. Funny, it never quite seemed proper for them to talk when anyone else was present.  
"I enjoy your company. Not the opera. " Zechs replied with a smile that would be untraceable to anyone except his companion.

The car rolled to a stop in front of them, the little flags lying dormant for now, and silence once again descended between them. But as they slid inside, they sat close enough to brush shoulders through the uniform jackets; out of the eye line of the driver Treize put his gloved hand on the leather between his thigh and Zech's and his friend put his own gloved hand over it as they rode on in silence.


	3. Oxygen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Epilogue  
> Fandom: Gundam Wing  
> Theme: #6 Oxygen  
> Pairing: Zechs Marquise/Treize Kushrenada  
> Rating: PG  
> Disclaimer: I do not own the Gundam Wing universe or characters, and I mean no harm nor do I make any money from this. Please don't sue.  
> Summery: After the explosion of Libra, Zechs finds himself still alive.

Title: Epilogue  
Fandom: Gundam Wing  
Theme: #6 Oxygen  
Pairing: Zechs Marquise/Treize Kushrenada  
Rating: PG  
Disclaimer: I do not own the Gundam Wing universe or characters, and I mean no harm nor do I make any money from this. Please don't sue.  
Summery: After the explosion of Libra, Zechs finds himself still alive.

They say that in space no one could hear you scream, but very few people had ever tried. The man once known to the world as Milliardo Peacecraft was testing that theory, pounding his fists against the burnt out consol in impotent grief as fat, angry tears rolled down perfect cheeks. Around him, Epyon smouldered limbless and powerless through the debris field left by the final battle and Libra's explosion. His Gundam had protected him from the blast when he should rightfully be burnt to a crisp, free to join that plotting, melodramatic bastard.

What made it worse was his absolute certainty that Treize had planned this, had designed Epyon so he would be unable to self destruct, and that the oxygen supply ran off a separate system to the rest of the cockpit so that even now it was ticking away in the background, circulating fresh air. He was alive, but he wished desperately that the forcibly protective embrace of this dead leviathan would fail. He wished that he'd brought his gun into the cockpit with him. He wished that Heero had been able to do to him what 05 had done to Treize.

He screamed out his rage, thousands of miles from earth, hundreds of miles from the colonies and disowned by both. He screamed until his baritone voice became horse. He screamed out thirteen years worth of grief, frustration and anger until his voice cracked and failed until only harsh creaks escaped.

_"I'll be waiting for you on the other side, Milliardo."_

"Bastard." He croaked. Then there was silence, except for the soft ticking of the air recycling system and his laboured breath. He lay in the cockpit seat without the inclination to move, and slowly his breathing calmed along with his thoughts.

_"What should happen in the epilogue, do you think?"  
"I don't think we'll have an epilogue. Do you?"  
"I suppose not."  
"Suppose? You've never 'supposed' anything in your life."_

Space is silent, and it's the suspicious, ashamed silence of an uncle that's just realised he's said something you shouldn't have heard when you weren't paying attention. It's a silence that fosters thoughts of the past.

_"Milliardo…"  
"Please. Not that name."  
"Forgive me."_

The nameless blonde wrapped his arms about his chest, giving himself the embrace he wished that he didn't need. The remains of Epyon gave a sympathetic squeal of metal on metal.

_"He gave this to me, but you should have it. I don't understand him."_

Did anyone understand Treize, he wondered absently. He certainly knew the general, perhaps better than anyone. They'd been – close.

_"Zechs, your skin tastes and smells like mech grease."  
"Your walking bouquet of scent makes up for it, I'm sure."  
"Your hair smells of gunpowder."  
"So does yours."_

They had been more than close, he supposed. They spilled their blood together, lived together, trained together, plotted together, protected each other when they had to and sometimes… sometimes they'd shared each other.

_"That… that was… interesting."  
"Yes… A defining… moment…"  
"It was rather more than a moment… Milli…"  
"How do you have the energy to… split hairs…?"  
"…"_

It was almost ironic, really. Treize had witnessed the deaths of Prince Milliardo and Cornel Zechs Marquise only to find his friend a walking talking dead man. And now, he had witnessed and heard Treize's death only to know, deep inside of him, that he would never see him walking again. It should have made him laugh, but it didn't. Death had come for him and those close to him for a third time, and for a third time it had let him live.

"Why?" he asked softly. Space is as silent as the darkness left after the war, and there was nothing to answer him but the echoes of his mind, and the tick, tick, tick of the air system.

_"C'mon Milli!"  
"Slow down Treize! I can't see you!"  
"I'm here."  
"Aghh! Don't do that!"  
"Don't be silly. You know I'm always right behind you."  
"Bastard!"  
"Such language for one so young! What would my Father say, if he heard a prince swear like that?"_

"Milli? What's wrong?"  
"Go Away! Leave me alone!"  
"No chance, my friend. No chance."


	4. Tangled Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Homicidal Plants

Title: Homicidal Plants

Fandom: Gundam Wing

Theme: #7 Tangled up

Pairing: Zechs Marquise/Treize Kushrenada

Timeline: Post-EW

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I do not own the Gundam Wing universe or characters, and I mean no harm nor do I make any money from this. Please don't sue.

Summery: In which they do some gardening

"Treize, your plants hate me!"

"They do not hate you, Milli."

"Would you wager on that?" The blonde, finally succeeding in untangling himself from the rose bushes glared playfully over at his friend. Crimson cuts and scarlet welts decorated most of his upper body, and stung from the sweat. Treize glanced up at him and grinned quickly before ducking back down to finish trimming his own rose bush.

"Then you should have worn a tshirt."

"It's too warm. And why you wanted to come out here to garden when it's so warm is completely beyond me. Especially when your plants hate me."

"They do not hate you, Milli."

"They do."

"They don't."

"Do."

"Don't"

"Do."

"Don't."

"Do too. I'm bleeding Treize. Only things that want me dead make me bleed."

With an irritated sigh, the elder looked back up at him, sheilding his eyes from the glare of the sun with one be-gloved hand. He had to admit that Zechs was bleeding from the thorns, but it looked good on him. Hell, anything would look good on him. You'd be hard pressed to find something that looked bad.

"I suppose you want me to put my tools down so we can go inside and I can take care of those for you?" He sighed.

"Ideally, yes." The blonde replied, wiping at a paticularly deep scratch on his cheek.

"Well tough cheese, my friend." He went back to the roses before him. "You'll have to wait."

Zechs glared playfully at him again and decided to leave well enough alone, choosing a section of wall he knew full well was just within the other man's line of sight to lean against.

"You love your homicidal plants more than me." He accused, folding his arms over his chest with a decidedly immature pout.

"Don't be silly."

"Then come and take care of me."

"You can wait two minutes, Milli." Treize grinned to himself though. The blonde disappeared from his sights at the same time as he removed a dead rose head from the bush. By the time it had tumbled to the ground, its decapitator was joining it, with the larger blonde straddling him quite happily. Treize just laughed though, and tried to shove him off. Smirking slightly, the blonde stayed put.

"No, I can't." He insisted, leaning down so that there was bearly a couple of inches between them. "Come and take care of me, Treize."

"Gott you're heavy. Have you put on weight?" Treize laughed, hooking his arms around the blonde's shoulders. That earned him a swift, teasing nip against his lower lip.

"No. Now come and take care of me before I take care of you here on the grass."

"What, and scare the staff?"

Zechs growled softly and cut off any more comments he might make by sealing their mouths together in a passionate kiss that made no bones about the seriousness of the blonde's threat. Treize enjoyed it immensely.

"Now," Zechs panted when he finally chose to break away. "For the last time, come and take care of me."

"Gladly." Treize replied with a smirk, leaning up to lick away the smeared blood on his lover's cheek. "But then I have to finish the roses."

"Damn the roses to the ninth level of hell." The blonde grumbled, getting up before helping his companion to his feet. Treize chuckled and led the way inside.

"Perhaps they 'do' hate you after all."


	5. Fairy Tales

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title: The Cage of Red Ribbon**

**Title: The Cage of Red Ribbon**

**Fandom:** Gundam Wing

**Theme:** #8 Fairy tales

**Pairing:** Zechs Marquise/Treize Kushrenada

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Gundam Wing universe or characters, and I mean no harm nor do I make any money from this. Please don't sue.

**Note:** Going without sleep for 23 hours and counting when I wrote this.

**Summery:** Dorothy getting down with her delusional self.

He tried hard to ignore the young blonde woman perching on the edge of his desk. It really shouldn't be this hard, he'd had years of experience of Dorothy's tactics after all.

"Why Mr Milliardo –"

"Wind." He corrected absently, scanning a report on the latest constructions back on mars. She paid no more attention to him than he was to her. It was how they'd always gotten along.

"-Milliadro, this really is no job for you. I'm sure it would brake my cousin's heart to see you stuck behind a desk like this."

No reaction, nothing from the blonde in his padded chair behind the mahogany desk that his old friend would have roundly teased him for. When he wanted to Milliardo Peacecraft could pull off an admirable performance as a deaf man.

"The Broken Prince trapped in his cage of red ribbon!" Dorothy sighed dramatically, hopping off the desk neatly. "The brave hero of thousands trapped in a cage of his own making, to keep his evil brother inside so that he can no longer be a threat to the world; they hover in one body on the edge of the river Styx, waiting for someone to pull them back and bring them crashing back into the arms of a new love!" She proclaimed, throwing her hands up for effect, waiting for his response.

The silence that followed was broken a few moments later by the clack clack of a keyboard as he turned to his computer to check something.

"What a nice story, Dorothy. Perhaps you should take up writing for children." He said absently, ignoring her scowl as easily as he ignored her little message. "Although the ending is all wrong."

"Wrong how!"

"That Prince is not waiting to be pulled back."

"He's not?"

"No." He glanced up at her with the tiniest of smiles on his face, the gentle curve of a headstone. "He is waiting for the boatman to finally notice him."


	6. Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title:** Training

**Title:** Training

**Fandom:** Gundam Wing

**Theme:** #11 Ice

**Pairing:** Zechs Marquise/Treize Kushrenada

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Gundam Wing universe or characters, and I mean no harm nor do I make any money from this. Please don't sue.

**Notes:** Many Thanks to Rose Walker for BETAing!

**Summery:** In which they Train. (And give the author a new cavity)

* * *

It had taken all day to get the other twenty trainees to their pre-arranged spots, and leave them in such a way that they wouldn't be able to find their way back. They'd flown around the same mountain for twelve hours now, occasionally going back for fuel and more passengers. But it needed to be done. The only way they were ever going to find out if the survival training had taken root would be to test what they were most likely to need, and this batch were going to be sent off to Antarctica in a few short weeks. It made sense, it was logical and more than reasonable, but…

"Does it have to be so cold?" Treize grumbled to himself, tucking his hands under his arms in an effort to bring the feeling back.

"Yes."

He ignored his friend's baritone, steadfastly refusing his head's urge to look up. The blonde would only be smirking, if he had any expression at all. They wheeled about the mountain, heading back for base and Treize stared out at the mountain where he could already see three tents being put up and the bright red jackets of another pair digging at the snow. It was beautiful, of course, the majestic and craggy mountain, all blacks and whites; yet it was dangerous too. He'd been through this ordeal himself and had returned with a broken arm.

"They'll be fine, Sir."

"How many times?"

"Treize."

"Thank you." He finally tore his eyes away from the mountain, knowing that his companion was right. They'd taken every safety precaution that they could, had made sure that they would be able to track all twenty of the soldiers – again, without their knowledge – and there were foot as well as air rescue crews on stand by. "I like to think that you, of all people, know my name."

That got him a small smile before that fair head was turned back out the doorway, towards the snow. Treize watched him without subtlety; he considered the way the long blonde hair lay heavy in its braid against the winter coat and how ugly it was like that. How fine it would have been to see that blonde hair snapping out behind his friend, and how much better that image would be if the younger man would only consider removing that damn mask that so marred his looks. It was a crime to hide such a handsome face, Treize was certain and had counselled his friend on it many times, loosing ground with each battle. The General quite enjoyed the challenge though.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yes."

The loud whup-whuping of the rotor blades filled their comfortable silence as they both looked out at the frozen beauty of the changeable mountain, and the strong north wind rushed past them on its eternal pathway, carrying clouds heavy with snow over the mountain's peak. Slate-grey and huge, they moved faster than anything of a similar size could ever imagine, steadily blocking out the sunlight.

"We will be glad of our fire tonight, my friend."

"And they will appreciate central heating far more when they return."

"Indeed?" Treize asked, chuckling. Zechs turned back to him, smiling softly.

"You don't remember the way your spine melted when you returned to base and its heated hallways?"

"Certainly not." He replied with a grin, leaning across until their faces were only a few inches apart. To his credit, Zechs didn't flinch away where a lesser man would have quickly found something else to attract his superior's attention. "I remember you coming back and doing some very interesting things to warm yourself up, though."

"I'm sure that I have no idea what you're talking about." Zechs replied blithely, turning his now grinning face back out towards the astonishing view. Treize snorted in disbelief. "But if I did I would say that you did most of the warming up."

"I did?"

"Oh yes."

"Hmm, what did I do? Exactly."

"Such a poor memory for a General. Une would be broken hearted to know just how much you forget."

"As Noin would be if she ever found out what a poor liar you really are."

"Then it's a good thing that they never will, don't you think?"

"Indeed." Treize grinned, his blue eyes flicking briefly towards the cockpit. After assuring himself that the pilot could not see them, he closed the distance to gently lay a kiss on his neck. "It is awfully cold."

"So you said." Zechs replied promptly, a small smile on his lips. "Repeatedly." He added for good measure.

Silence greeted him comment, along with the removal of Treize's warm breath on his neck, and this time it seemed a little tense. Zechs chuckled; he could imagine all to well the pout forming on his friend's lips, which were likely to be blue by now if he really was that cold. Deciding that it wouldn't do for his Commanding Officer to be stuck in bed for a week or for his Lover to be stuck in bed for a week without him, Zechs quickly wrapped the older man up in his arms. Treize merely smirked and stole a swift kiss, sliding his hands under the coats that separated them.

"Ah! You're cold!" Zechs accused softly, hissing a bit at the cold fingers against his warm back.

"And you are warm." Treize discovered with no little elation, spreading them out on the sensitive skin to warm them better. "My own personal hand warmer. Thank you Miri." He murmured, resting against the blonde's chest. If he were going to be cuddled all the way back, then he might as well enjoy it while he had it. Opportunities like this didn't present themselves everyday after all.

"You can be so childish, _Sir_."

He sounded annoyed, but the tightening of his grip gave him away. Treize just laughed softly and leaned further back against him, seeping up warmth like a sponge. Then once again the whup-whup-whupping of the blades filled the comfortable silence between them while Treize flew in his lovers arms.


	7. Sakura

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sakura (#14)

Sakura (#14)

It had been almost a full year since Duke Kushrenada had gifted the Sancian Royal family with the small grove of somei yoshino, and he and his family had been invited to experience their first blooming. The almost white petals drifted down from the canopy of identically beautiful blossoms as the small family group were escorted through the short alley to the clearing at the end. There the Sancian King was holding court, out in the open in deference to the bloom's short lives. A smaller throne had been brought out of retirement for the occasion and set up at the furthest reaches of the clearing. All around noblemen and women shuffled about in the falling petals, each and every one of them quietly worried that they would have ruined boots by the end of the day. It would have been serene if it hadn't been for the baby crying. His young voice cut through his elder's respectful silences almost painfully; when the Prince of Sanc chose to exercise his lungs, there was no way you could ignore him.

The Queen, resplendent in a gown the exact pink/white shade of the petals, struggled to silence the boy in her arms, while his nurses tried to distract him with pretty toys that shone and rattled. Treize thought it should be obvious to them that the boy was bored with those simple toys. He wanted a challenge. Why couldn't they see that? Unconcerned by his parents surprised voices, the five year old future Duke walked directly up to the crying Prince.

"Oh, it's you Treize." The Queen gave him a graceful smile that was perhaps only a little bit worn. "This isn't the best time to talk flowers, dear. I need to control my dear son."

Treize didn't budge, looking down at the almost-toddler with a curious expression. He knew him, or at least he felt sure that he did. He felt like someone he should know, and he didn't need to think about it to know that his next statement was true.

"You can't stop him."

The Prince stopped crying immediately on hearing Treize's voice. The chubby face turned towards him, and far too intelligent blue eyes turned on him, eyeing him for a few long moments in the very serious way only toddlers could.

"Well, you are being cheeky today, Treize. But there! He's stopped!"

Treize did not tell her it was because he'd wanted to, but only because his parents came rushing up behind him.

"Oh, your Majesty, so sorry!"

"I don't know what gets into him sometimes."

"Absolutely uncontrollable sometimes!"

Treize tuned out the adults babble and wouldn't let his mother draw him against her skirts. Instead he crouched down in front of Prince Milliardo, and the two children stared at each other for a little while longer, taking the first few exploratory steps into an understanding that would change the world.


	8. Orange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Broadsheet (Part of the 'Between Equals' cycle)  
> Fandom: Gundam Wing  
> Theme: #17 Orange; colour  
> Pairing: 13X6  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 449  
> Notes: Because I watch too much Doctor Who... Written for the 30_hugs challenge.  
> Disclaimer: The usual. Me no own, me no make money, you no sue.

Title: Broadsheet (Part of the 'Between Equals' cycle)  
Fandom: Gundam Wing  
Theme: #17 Orange; colour  
Pairing: 13X6  
Rating: G  
Word Count: 449  
Notes: Because I watch too much Doctor Who... Written for the 30_hugs challenge.  
Disclaimer: The usual. Me no own, me no make money, you no sue.

It wasn't easy being clever. Treize had discovered that early on, when at the tender age of five he had roundly beaten his uncle at chess. He didn't remember that himself, had been informed of it so many times by slightly tipsy female relations that he had accepted it as truth; Treize only remembered that his many cousins started looking at him differently. Looking had become being spoken to differently, and soon after being treated differently. It would have been nice to blame it all on them, but even at twelve years old he'd realised that they no longer included him in their games because he simply couldn't understand them, let alone connect with them. Why on earth did they want to run around playing anything from hide and seek to soccer on the perfectly manicured lawn when they could be reading Sun Tzu, or learning to fence? He'd rather have his orange head buried in his father's broadsheets than try to steal his oldest cousin's secret stash of adult magazines; he'd joined in once in an attempt to understand and just got more confused searching for the appeal of the naked ladies the other boys giggled at. That was why he thanked the gods for Milliardo.

There may have been four years between them but they had fun raiding the library together, voracious minds tearing through first his mother's library and then his father's study to the proud perplexity of the owners. Being very clever, he never took for granted the companionship of the quiet and oddly serious boy who understood the attraction of Machiavelli, and riding, and grown up theories on everything they came across. At night when thoughts just wouldn't stop rushing through his head one or the other would sneak along the corridor, nimbly avoiding the boards that would reveal their actions to slip into the other's room with a dozen thoughts on the tip of their tongues demanding they be discussed immediately, if not sooner. On nights like that it was easy to forget that his peers kept him at a distance and that sometimes his father would look at him as though wondering which planet he'd come from. It was easy to let all that drift away along with the rest of the world on a stream of enthusiastic discussions with someone he didn't have to dumb down for or explain to. It was a singular joy to be understood.

And if he found the fluid movements of his friend as he crawled into the embrace of shared blankets more interesting than the long ago stolen nudie magazine... well it was probably because no one else was clever enough to notice.


End file.
